


Valiant & Just

by hydrangea



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Dryad Lore, Eustace & Aslan, Eustace & Narnia - Freeform, Gen, Murder Mystery, Narnian history, The Dawn Treader, Worldbuilding, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 17:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrangea/pseuds/hydrangea
Summary: When Eustace (and all onboard the Dawn Treader) is woken up by a Lion's roar in the middle of the night, little does he know how much that will change everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loveandrockmusic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveandrockmusic/gifts).

**Eustace’s Diary**

_ Scribbled on a free page towards the end. _

_ Lucy says it might be a good idea to write everything down. The… what happened tonight. Says that we can read it later if we need to. I think she’s mostly being nice. Which she is: nice, I mean. Not tonight though - but tonight no one was nice. Not after what happened. Not after--but I don’t want to write that down. Not even here. L. says I shouldn’t worry, that everything will be... not fine, but right. I think I will worry. I think everyone will. _

  
  
  


Eustace landed with a thud, blinking hard. There had been… cows? But there was no cows. Not on… 

He blinked again and suddenly his elbow hurt. Quite a lot. He was on the floor, he realised. Or whatever they called the floor on a ship. Was it still a deck if it was on the inside? Only a little light spread from the small lantern at the door - there was a fly buzzing noisily around it. That wouldn’t have woken him up though - or made him fall out of bed for the thousandth time. That--

“Aslan’s Mane!”

Eustace winced at the sudden loudness, then held his breath. There was something else, something drowned by the loudness of blood rushing to his head. It was… like nothing he’d heard before - or was it? He couldn’t tell, not with the drumbeat echoing in his ears.

“We should get above.” Caspian was awake - and he sounded as if he’d had quite some bad news.

Eustace looked over. Caspian and Edmund were both pulling on their trousers, boots still under their beds and shirts wrinkled from sleep.

“We’d better.” Edmund’s voice was tense. “Will Drinian know what to--?”

“I don’t know.” 

The uncertainty, the...fear? almost, but not quite... in Caspian’s voice, had Eustace scrambling for his own trousers. 

“What  _ was _ that noise?” he dared asking, fingers fumbling with laces. He missed buttons.

Edmund and Caspian shared a look. People did that, a lot, around Eustace.

“That,” Edmund finally said, “was a Lion’s roar.”

  
  
  


There were people everywhere on deck, taking up every bit of space available. The people on night watch were still at their posts, but had gained the company of those who should still be asleep below decks. The Galmian sailors had clustered around their own, while Caspian’s people were spread across the midsection of the ship. The Marten, Moorclaw, stood with the Dwarves, Koredrak and Lorenik, with Bhar the Minotaur seated beside them to prevent neck cricks. In the middle of it all, by the mast, stood Caspian and Edmund with Lucy and Drinian, the group very clearly both in charge and apart from the rest of the crew.

Eustace deliberately stayed out of it all, choosing instead a clear stretch of railing to lean against as he tried not to look as awkward as he felt. Catching a flash of light in the corner of his eye, he turned to find Reep in the shadow of the rigging, balanced against the swells with the help of his tail.

Reep nodded in greeting and Eustace could feel his entire body slump. A friendly face - and one that didn’t mind his ignorance, and his occasional rudeness.

“A dark night,” Reep said, nodding towards the midship group.

Eustace echoed his look and...found himself talking.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” he confessed. “I mean, I have met him - Him, I mean, you know, Aslan - but I don’t understand it. Why is everyone so upset about a roar?”

Reep looked thoughtful. “A Narnian knows, but did you not hear the Lion roar? Did you not respond?” He put his paw on his sword. “When Aslan roars, a Narnian comes. If a lion roars, a non-Narnian takes heed.”

“So it’s not as much that we know something has happened, it’s that something must have happened for the Lion - Aslan, to roar.” Eustace shuddered. 

“Precisely.” Then, after a moment, Reep added, “And I can’t imagine it’s for a small matter - their majesties can handle most such things on their own.”

Eustace didn't want to think about what a matter too big for people like Caspian and Drinian would look like. He looked around the deck, trying to distract himself from thoughts that really wouldn’t help anyone. Everyone really was awake, he decided. Even the...what did they call the watch at dawn?  _ They _ really should have been sleeping, he knew, since Drinian had said something about the swing of the ship around the anchor not leaving much room last night. That they needed to have additional watchers. Why they didn’t just move the ship, Eustace didn’t know, but there was a reason his chores didn’t involve anything involved in running the ship anymore.

Something… nagged at his awareness. Eustace squinted, trying to see if he’d missed someone. There was… something not right.

“Reep…” he said, just as something happened across the deck, “I think someone’s missing.”

Then, for the first time in his life, Eustace heard Lucy raise her voice.

“ _ No _ , you fool! A Dryad would  _ never _ abandon their tree! If Larch has gone overboard, you can be  _ sure _ they didn’t do it on their own. Aslan wouldn’t have roared for an  _ accident _ !”

Eustace stared at Lucy, at the plain fury on her face.

Reep made a disparaging noise next to him - as if  _ he _ found nothing startling about the situation. “The sons of Galma have forgotten much if they question a Queen in Narnia on her people.”

From the polite disbelief on Drinian’s face, Eustace didn’t think the Galmians were the only ones  _ questioning  _ Lucy. Lucy must have seen it too, as she huffed and stalked off towards Eustace and Reep (another thing he had  _ never _ thought to see Lucy do). Edmund stepped between Drinian and Lucy’s departing back, saying something that Eustace didn’t catch, but turned all the attention towards him. Not a moment too soon either, as Lucy reached the railing, hit it  _ hard _ , and then said a bunch of words that Eustace could have  _ sworn _ she’d never put in her mouth before. Or that she even  _ knew _ .

“Are you... feeling better?” Eustace offered tentatively, once the not-so-nice words stopped, not knowing what else to say but feeling that he had to say  _ something _ .

Lucy exhaled through her teeth, then sighed. “No. But yes. Everything has changed, Eustace. I didn’t even realise how much until now.”

Not understanding, Eustace could only offer a small noise of commiseration.

A smile tugged at Lucy’s lips then, and she grasped his hand. “Oh Eustace, sometimes I forget that you haven’t been with us all that long.”

“And you, Your Majesty,” Reep interjected, “have known the Narnia of old that is only now beginning to return to us.”

Lucy shot a dark look towards the gathering. “Some days, I can believe that.”

Reep followed her gaze. “The sons of Adam sometimes forget one cannot  _ own _ Narnia though they govern her. Narnia, I believe, will come to correct that view.”

“Perhaps.”

Eustace didn’t think that Lucy sounded very optimistic. He didn’t know much about Narnia’s history, but from what he had learned from speaking with Reep and overhearing discussions between Lucy and Edmund, Narnia had recently been colonised by a foreign power. And that Caspian was the leader of that foreign power. How Caspian came to rule  _ both _ Narnia and that other country, he wasn’t sure of. It was just assumed to be something everyone knew.

A door slammed, and then, amidst a lot of shouting, someone threw something overboard. Eustace turned, but could see nothing, a throng of people suddenly swallowing the opposite side of the ship.

“ _ There _ !” a voice that Eustace recognised as belonging to one of the Galmian sailors, shouted. “Now that curse-ridden tree has left  _ nothing _ behind!”

“Curse-ridd--” Reep muttered, “does he mean--?”

Lucy turned white, taking half a step towards the upheaval before visibly stopping herself. Eustace didn’t notice much beyond that, however, his attention caught instead by Edmund as his cousin stalked over to the Galmian. The look on Edmund’s face had quieted all conversation, and, had Eustace not known better, he would’ve thought someone was about to die.

The centre of attention was still at the railing but a path had opened through the rest of the gathered people, no one wanting to come between Edmund and his target. The sailor had a belligerent look on his face, but it quickly faded into alarm as if he realised that something had gone very differently from intended.

“If I hadn’t seen you with us below, Rendar, I would’ve named you murderer.” Edmund’s voice was conversational, almost kind.

When Rendar opened his mouth to retort, Eustace half wanted to run across and slap his hand over his mouth. There was  _ nothing _ coming out of that mouth at that moment that wouldn’t end in bloodshed. Not with  _ that _ look on Edmund’s face. Rendar seemed to realise the same as his mouth snapped shut again. 

“Injuring a Dryad,” Edmund continued, without showing any hint of taking notice of Rendar’s momentary rebellion, “or in this case, their offshoot, if an offense punishable with a lifetime of servitude to the Crown - among other things.” Something about Edmund’s tone made Eustace think that he probably didn’t want to know what those other things were. “As you are a foreign national, however, we will have to settle with restraining you for now.”

Rendar went white. “It was a bloody pot!”

“Containing part of a sentient being.” Edmund’s voice went cold. “You should be grateful I didn’t throw you in after it.”

Even though going into the water would most likely end with the sailor’s death against the rocky coast, Eustace didn’t think that Rendar considered Edmund’s restraint a kindness.

“Thore. Dendri. Take him below and confine him.”

Eustace turned away. The faces of the other Galmians… It was obvious they didn’t consider what Rendar had done was something to be punished for.

He’d thrown Larch’s offshoot into the sea. The last living piece of Larch. After they’d been...

Visions of the cliffs and the rocks at their foot, of Larch being splintered against them floated before his eyes.

Eustace’s stomach turned. Spinning around, he yanked himself half-across the railing and emptied his stomach of the evening meal against the side of the ship, watching it be swept away by the high waves.

Lucy stroked his back, wordless in her comforting, even though she must have felt as sick herself. She had  _ known  _ Larch. Eustace...hadn’t. And it still...it still made him feel as if...it made him feel… He didn’t even have a word for it.

When he was finished, Eustace accepted the hanky that she handed him and wiped his mouth, tucking it into his pocket to be washed when they next went ashore.

“They didn’t think Larch was a person.” Their faces, Rendar’s actions. He hadn’t realised until now that they hadn’t seen anything but a tree. “How…” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Lucy slid down the railing to lean against it next to him - when had he sat down? “In my days, the Galmians knew better.” A bittersweet look crossed her face. “My Linden knew better.”

Eustace opened his mouth to ask who Linden was, but Reep caught his eye and shook his head. 

“Now,” Lucy continued, unaware of the silent exchange between the two, “I believe the prevailing view is that trees are only trees and animals only animals.”

Eustace hadn’t known. He’d learned though… even if it had been  _ weeks _ before he had even bothered to learn Reep’s name. “How can they think that?” he burst out.

Lucy shook her head. “People forget.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Eustace wondered.

Footsteps approached, and when Eustace looked up, he wasn’t surprised to find Edmund there. 

“That’s up to you, Lu. Are you willing to take on your duties as Valiant again?”

“Will you be Just?” Lucy kept her voice low enough that Eustace could barely hear it - and he knew that only Reep and Edmund could beyond himself. “Once a King or Queen In Narnia, always a King or Queen In Narnia.” It sounded as if was mostly a reminder to herself than a statement.

It meant something to Reep, however, as he inhaled sharply, then jumped down onto the deck. “Your Majesties,” he said, bowing deeply.

Feeling completely out of the loop, Eustace stared at Edmund as his mouth widened into what was most definitely not a smile.

“Once a King or Queen,” Edmund agreed. “May the truth shine bright.”

When Lucy echoed the sentiment, Eustace could only stay silent. In this, his cousins were royalty Narnians, while he was merely a boy from a suburb in England.

  
  


**Eustace’s Diary**

_ I keep thinking about Larch. How strange it was to have a tree - a Dryad - as a carpenter. I didn’t know him. I don’t know a lot of people on the ship. Reep, L. and E., Caspian, a little bit. Did I try to get to know them? I don’t know. Do I want to? Yes. _

_ I hear what they say (I mean the humans that aren’t L., E. or C.). They don’t seem to care. Well, some of them do. It’s hard to tell when everyone goes quiet as soon as you get close. It doesn’t help that we can’t go ashore. Drinian says the swells are too dangerous. Maybe tomorrow, he says. _

_ Lucy wants to search for the body. I’m scared of what will happen if she finds it. _

  
  
  


“Do we know where Larch fell?”

Eustace hadn’t meant to ask the question. He had been staring into his cup of water for the last few minutes, trying to figure out what made his stomach so upset. The sudden outburst probably answered that question.

Lucy looked up from her mending of a tunic - she was not half as tidy as Edmund in her stitching, Eustace noted, or even as tidy as himself. Then again, he’d had a lot of practice, mending being one of the tasks given to him. 

“Yes.” Then, after a brief hesitation, she continued, as if she realised the question was honestly meant. “I looked around and found fresh scratches. Some blood. Sap. Larch didn’t go willingly.”

Was she thinking that he wouldn’t believe her, Eustace wondered. Was that why she hesitated? “Like you said yesterday, then.” He thought about what he’d written in his diary. Decided to tell her what he’d realised. “I didn’t know Larch very well.”

Lucy was giving him a strange look now. “I don’t think anyone not from Narnia did, except for Edmund and me.”

“But you are from Narnia.” It had become more and more obvious the longer they stayed. Sometimes, he felt painfully British, while his cousins just  _ fit _ .

Lucy laughed - did she think he was joking? “In a way, I suppose,” she said, then sobered. “Larch told me that they always wanted to go sailing. ‘Walk the water’, they put it. When Caspian announced this journey, Larch was one of the first volunteers. Caspian and Drinian couldn’t refuse; a Dryad carpenter is… It’s as if a mathematician decides to teach primary school maths.”

“It always struck me as odd,” Eustace confessed. “A Dryad is part tree - why would one want to do woodwork?”

Lucy took a slow breath. “I keep forgetting you don’t know much - Eustace, not every tree is...alive isn’t the right word.”

“Sentient,” Eustace told her. 

Lucy scrunched her nose up. “I don’t think I knew that word in England. I...might have, here?” She gave Eustace a cautious look. “I don’t know if you’ve caught on, but...when we’re in Narnia, Edmund and I...and Peter and Susan too...are different.”

Eustace half wanted to say something sarcastic, like  _ no, really? _ , but that was the old him. He tried for diplomacy instead. “You lived here for a very long time.” He had asked Reep later about Lucy’s mention of Linden, and (he still couldn’t quite get his head around this) Lucy and Edmund had been  _ married _ the first time they had come to Narnia and Peter and Susan had had several...involvements (Reep’s choice of word). That Lucy, who was  _ younger _ than him had been married… He was avoiding thinking about it, to be honest. 

“We did.” Lucy had that distant look on her face again, the one that said that she was remembering things from back then. Then something changed and she was fully back with him. “Why are you asking about Larch?”

“It just feels weird,” Eustace confessed, dismissing all the glum thoughts that had surfaced. “As if no one is trying to figure out who did it. Someone  _ murdered _ Larch. That man, he called Larch a curse-ridden tree, as if Larch wasn’t a person.”

“Larch was worth ten of Rendar.” Lucy almost snarled, eyes steely. “And believe me, no one is letting this go.”

“I haven’t seen anyone asking questions or even looking around!” All the frustration that had been boiling inside of him just burst out, his cup sloshing and then falling over as he gesticulated.

Lucy stared at him for a moment, as if he’d turned back into a dragon - or old Eustace. Then said, “Eustace, what do you think that I’m doing?”

Eustace blinked.

Lucy very slowly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Back in the days, I was known as Queen Lucy the Valiant. It’s not a description. It’s a  _ title _ . The Valiant, the investigator, the one who dares to look the truth in the eye and speak with the knowledge that Aslan is with them.”

She opened her eyes, and for a moment, Eustace didn’t recognise his cousin.

“I am the Valiant, and I seek the truth of Larch’s death. Aslan called me and I answered.”

There was something odd in the way she said it, as if it wasn’t his cousin - or even the Queen In Narnia he had seen lately. It was as if someone else was speaking through her, someone he recognised.

“Though half the time it’s far less impressive.” The  _ other _ in his cousin drained as fast as it had come. Eustace found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t been aware he held. “Until Edmund said it, I wasn’t sure I could even  _ be _ the Valiant anymore. You have to be close to Aslan - and know the right magic.”

Sometimes, Eustace reflected, people just couldn’t see what was right in front of them. If there was anyone on the ship close to Aslan, it was Lucy.  _ He _ could tell, and a few months ago he had firmly believed that Narnia was a nursery tale.

He opened his mouth to tell Lucy that, then closed it again. It was probably one of those things you had to discover for yourself, just as he himself was discovering much more about who he was in the last few days than he had ever suspected. Like how utterly ignorant he was about both his cousins.

“Tell me if I can help,” he said instead -- and received a brilliant smile in return.

“You care,” Lucy said earnestly. “That helps a lot.”

  
  
  


Later that day, in between the mending and washing up after the evening meal, Eustace went over to the stretch of railing that Lucy had told him about. It was as she’d said: deep grooves marred the weathered wood, and, as he leaned over the railing, there were more of them along the side of the ship until it met water. He raised his eyes and peered into the deep bay in which they were anchored, studied the rippling water, the foam crashing against and over the pointed rocks below the high cliffside.

Drinian had said that lowering the boats in this sea would only smash them into the rocks. That they had to wait until calmer waters and then row around the natural wave breaker they had taken shelter behind to reach the shallows and beach beyond that. The previous day had been more turbulent than now. Larch would’ve been carried into the rocks in moments.

“Looking for driftwood?”

Eustace stared at Rynelf, come from the stern.

For a moment, Rynelf looked confused, then his eyes widened. “Not like that! I meant, you’re in charge of gathering wood for the cook.”

“The stores are full.” Eustace heard himself speak as if from a distance.

Rynelf nodded, awkwardly. “I’m sorry about Larch, you know,” he said, in that way that people do when they tried to convince you of something. “I just...I’m Telmarine. We’re brought up to fear them.”

“I thought it was supposed to be better now.” He couldn’t stop himself. “That Telmarines and Narnians live in peace.”

Rynelf looked over his shoulder nervously - Edmund and Caspian were speaking quietly by the poop, and, from their occasional look, were not unaware of Eustace’s and Rynelf’s conversation. “We’re trying,” Rynelf said quietly in the end, so low his voice was almost drowned out by the sea. “It’s not easy to overcome a lifetime of fear and hatred.”

Eustace looked at Reep, perched in his usual place beneath the dragon’s head, in the middle of a game of chess with Lucy. “It’s not easy for the Narnians either,” he pointed out.

Rynelf looked like he wanted to reply, but just then Caspian started towards them. Rynelf took one look at him, then headed off with some urgency towards Drinian.

“You looked as if you had an uncomfortable chat,” Caspian said as he reached Eustace, eyes sharp as he looked after Rynelf.

Eustace shrugged and said nothing. It wasn’t as if something had happened. And it wasn’t  _ his _ place to share what Rynelf had said.

After a moment of silence, Caspian sighed. “I’m not unaware of the tensions.”

“Are you doing anything about it?” Eustace snapped then looked away. “I’m sorry. I...it was an uncomfortable talk.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Caspian sighed again and looked in Rynelf’s direction. “I think I’m learning a lot about what I am and am not doing today.”

Feeling a bit guilty for snapping, Eustace shrugged. “I think we all are.” Then, trying for friendly, “It’s not easy to remember not to be stuck up. I imagine it’s much the same thing.”

Caspian laughed quietly and leaned over to squeeze his shoulder briefly. “We much prefer you not stuck up.” He sobered. “And I would much prefer not to be blind to my own people: Narnians all, even if we come from different places.”

“You should talk to Lucy,” Eustace told him. “I have.” For a moment he debated continuing, then added: “She knows a lot about Narnia.”  _ There _ , he thought, a hint.

He didn’t think he imagined the slight pinkish tint to Caspian’s cheeks. “You know, I just might.”

Eustace would be genuinely surprised if he didn’t. 

  
  
  


**Eustace’s Diary**

_ There’s something rotten in the state of Denmark. It’s the only bit I remember from Hamlet but I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve seen L. walking around talking to people. Drinian has delayed going ashore another day even though the weather is fine. The Galmians don’t appear to be talking to each other. I caught Rynelf in a discussion with Koredrak.  _

_ I think that Lucy is in the middle of it all. She told me about being Valiant. I think there’s more to it than I thought. In England, I would’ve thought she was acting like a parish priest, visiting people after a death. I don’t know if Narnians have priests. I don’t think they have a God like we do in England. But I know they have gods. What the difference is, I don’t know. _

_ Drinian says that we’ll go ashore tomorrow for sure. For some reason, I’m dreading it. _

  
  
  


They were putting Thore into Larch’s spot. Eustace had been there for the discussion - Thore was the only one with the know-how to do the carpenter’s work. It didn’t mean that he liked it. He understood it - they  _ needed _ a carpenter - but he didn’t like it.

Caspian and Drinian was still discussing how to break it to Thore when Eustace left. For now, Larch’s old cabin was still empty and...Eustace wanted to see it. To see the place where Larch had lived. It felt foolish - he hadn’t known Larch well when they were alive, but now that they were dead, he wanted to? It made no sense and it made him feel mean. Feeling mean would most likely never put anyone in a good mood.

The cabins of the cook and master archer were tiny but serviceable, Eustace knew from chores. He rather suspected the carpenter’s cabin to be the same. The door hadn’t always been closed when he walked by, but he’d never paid attention. Now that he did...the differences were all the more clear.

Lucy had once explained to him about Dryads. He could remember maybe half of it. Nothing of it explained the seamless door to the cabin, the play of colours in the patterns of the wood or the quiet opening of the door in spite of its wooden hinges. When he stepped inside, it was like moving into another world (again). 

On the surface, everything was normal: a bunk, shelving, a small amount of space to stand in. A tiny window that let in a trembling sliver of light. If he looked closer, if he paid attention, every single surface was a story in natural wood: waves painted the walls, trees climbed the bunk and pebbles lined the floor with tendrils of grass reaching upwards. None of it was painted, none of it was carved. None of it could have been created by nature - unless Dryads were considered part of nature? He wished he knew and he  _ wished _ he had known Larch as he followed the gentle swells of the waves made out of knots and rings and other wood things he didn’t have names for. 

“Larch was an artist.”

Lucy stood in the doorway, a sad smile on her face as her eyes wandered across the landscape inside the room. She was all Lucy this time, not the Valiant or the strange half-Lucy that made Eustace almost...nervous. 

“I don’t understand how they made this.” Eustace traced his fingers over the crest of a wave. “It’s not like any wood I have ever seen.”

“It’s all Larch.” 

For a moment, Eustace thought that he must have misunderstood. That the wood was larchwood. Then, when Lucy’s expression didn’t change at his confusion, he had to sit down. Abruptly. And it was suddenly very hard to breathe.

He closed his eyes, tried to count to five, inhale, count to five, exhale. His chest hurt.

An arm slid around his shoulders and a warm presence molded itself to his side. Low humming wandered into his awareness and, slowly, he began to be able to breathe again.

“It’s all Larch?” he finally managed to croak. “This is  _ Larch _ ?”

Lucy sniffled quietly and Eustace realised that she was as affected as he was. “I talked to Drinian. He doesn’t understand Narnians, but he’s a good captain. Even though he didn’t understand, he made sure he had the facts. Larch didn’t intend to return to Narnia - when Caspian and Drinian put together this crew, Larch created an offshoot of themself and then gave their tree to the building of the ship. This cabin, it’s all Larch’s tree. The ship, every single main component has a part of Larch.”

Eustace swallowed hard as his mind filled him in on something he had never considered. “Larch is the  _ Dawn Treader _ .”

He felt Lucy nod. “Drinian told me they named the ship for Larch’s wish to walk the water towards dawn.”

“Like Reep.”

“Not quite. For Larch, it was about the journey, not the destination.”

Eustace closed his eyes and, for the first time in weeks, thought:  _ I want to go home _ .

  
  
  


Caspian sat by the mast as Eustace came out onto the deck, a frayed rope in his lap as he worked to splice and braid the ends. It was an obvious look-out spot in Eustace’s opinion, even if the task he was doing was a necessary one. With his new interest in the comings and goings on the ship, however, Eustace knew that most of the time, anywhere you knew Lucy to be, Caspian would be somewhere nearby given half the chance. 

He wondered if Caspian knew about Linden. 

It really wasn’t any of his business.

“She’s in Larch’s cabin,” Eustace told Caspian. “Packing their belongings.”

Caspian, he noted, appeared to have gotten over the flushed stage. Instead Caspian just finished the section of rope he was working and put it away. “Thank you.”

Eustace shook his head and went to the nook where he had stored his mending in the morning. It was a sunny day and he wanted to take advantage of the light. If they were going ashore tomorrow, he wanted everything that was going to be washed to be mended and ready. 

His favoured spot at the head of the dragon had yet to attract anyone, so he hoisted himself and his basket up, tucking himself in so as to not trip anyone up. Everything in the cloth bag was as he’d left it, needle tucked into the seam of his current project. His parents really should see him like that, he thought, mending cloth as if he’d done it for years. 

“Marek?”

“Don’t talk to me.”

Eustace blinked at the harsh tone, trying not to move. It was two of the Galmian sailors, crossing each other’s path. He really didn’t want to catch their attention.

“No one talks!” The first voice sounded irate. “How are we supposed to…”

“Then maybe we are  _ not supposed to _ ,” the second voice, Marek, snapped. “We signed up for this, and I  _ know _ that we all knew how Narnia works. We shouldn’t--”

There was a scuffle and when Eustace looked up, the two sailors were rapidly going in different directions as Edmund headed their way - or Eustace’s way, as it turned out.

“Mending going well?” Edmund jumped up on the railing, arm hooked around a rope. 

Eustace held up his current piece. “I’m getting faster.”

“Faster than me,” Edmund agreed. “I don’t suppose you’d take my tunic in exchange for some more sword lessons tomorrow?”

“Done.” When Edmund lingered instead of going to fetch the tunic, Eustace looked more closely at him. And found Edmund looking at  _ him _ . “Something wrong?”

“No.” Then, “I heard Reep told you about Linden.”

“Lucy’s husband.” Deciding to take the bull by the horns, Eustace added, “He told me about your Hani as well. And that Susan was a widow. That Peter had two people he was going to marry.” And hadn’t  _ that _ come as a shock. He still didn’t know what to think about it.

Edmund turned abruptly, staring out at the sea. “You haven’t asked me about it. Or Lucy.”

Eustace put down his needle. Sewing while your hands shook only got you injured. “It’s none of my business.” If he wished that one of his  _ cousins _ had told him, that was  _ his _ business.

“We try not to think about it.  _ I _ try not to think about it.” The harsh breath that followed almost sounded like a sob. “We were grownups. Then we were not.” The sentence that followed was oddly flat, more like something that had to be said than something shared. “You won’t be the same when we go back either. The memories...they stay, but... it’s as if the emotions have been removed. Peter says they come back as you get older, but… I don’t know.”

Eustace didn’t know what to say. 

“It’s like we all say: Aslan is not a tame lion, he’s a Wild one. He didn’t bring us here out of kindness. He won’t always treat us kindly.”

Now  _ that _ , Eustace knew how to respond to. “It’s like when I turned into a dragon and then back into a human. None of it was kind and it hurt. But it was  _ needed _ .” 

“Maybe.” Edmund shook his head. “I think we all have to figure it out by ourselves. How to cope, I mean.” He looked at Eustace and though his eyes were a bit red, Eustace politely ignored it. “I just wanted to make sure that you knew that we didn’t keep it from you on purpose.”

The thought that they  _ had  _ had crossed his mind, but he’d dismissed it just as quickly. “I know.”

“I’ll go fetch that tunic for you.”

“Grab my cloak as well?” Eustace shouted after him.

Edmund waved his hand in acknowledgement.

Eustace picked up his needle. Mending was oddly soothing, he’d found. He could certainly need some soothing.

  
  
  


**Eustace’s Diary**

_ Going ashore today was the fussiest affair. No one wanted to be part of the watch that stayed. Drinian had to order Rynelf and the rest of his watch (Sorin and four men I don’t know -- I’m working on learning names) to take first watch. I think we all want to get away. _

_ The Galmians wanted Lucy on the first boat. I almost thought that they were afraid that Larch had cursed the island or something. But once Lucy had agreed the boat filled up easily enough. Lucy didn’t mind, I know, since she speaks often of loving to explore new islands. Drinian and Caspian used to think they needed to secure the island first. Lucy showed them how to use knives.  _

_ In hindsight, maybe I should have realised way back then Lucy wasn’t a British school girl. Not here _ .

  
  
  


Laundry, Eustace thought, was a great deal heavier in Narnia than at home. And a great deal more needed. With weeks of sailing in between washing opportunities and only perfunctory dips in salt water if there was dire need, it wasn’t unusual to feel a bit smelly and to be very happy when an island (and proper washing opportunities) arrived. Eustace himself might have not been  _ as _ happy as the others, since he was one of those on washing duty most of the time, and this time there was little happiness around at all.

That said, it was hard to find time to be sad while ferrying barrels and cloth-bundles across to the shore and then preparing lines and buckets for a day’s hard work the next day. He was grateful he wasn’t part of the logging crew this time around and only had to enjoy the camp set up for them by the time dark came around.

He found his bedroll next to Reep and wasn’t surprised to find Lucy there with him. She had spent more time with him and Reep lately than she had in the beginning. Eustace was starting to wonder a little, but figured it might be something that had to do with the Valiant duties. Or whatever she might call it.

He wished the ship had had more books on it. Factual ones. It might have cleared up a lot of things.

“I made tea!” Lucy announced as he sat down, pointing at the kettle set on a stone by the fire. “It’s a bit weak since we’re running low, but maybe there will be something growing here suitable for making tea.”

Eustace looked around for his cup, grabbed a cloth and poured himself enough of the slightly minty-smelling brew that he felt he might actually make it through an evening on top of the day they’d had. “Food?” he asked, sticking his head into the steam and breathing in deeply.

“Pig.” Lucy sounded unenthusiastic. Eustace felt much the same way - if there was something that most islands seemed to have in common, it was a healthy population of wild pigs. “I don’t know about you, but I’m keeping an eye out for trout or eel tomorrow.”

“Or duck,” Eustace agreed fervently.  _ Anything _ fresh that didn’t salt well enough to be kept on the ship would do. “You’re with me on laundry tomorrow?”

“Not quite.”

More Valiant stuff, Eustace translated as he enjoyed his first sip of tea. He wished he had a crumpet.

“Did I hear someone say trout?” 

Eustace started, almost spilling his tea, as Reep stepped out of the shadows. For a moment, he wondered why Reep looked so pleased with himself, then he spotted several trout speared on Reep’s sword.

“I could kiss you,” Eustace told him, fervently. 

“And if he didn’t, I would.” Lucy appeared to have found a new source of energy. “Give them to me - you catch, I cook.”

Reep handed them over with a flourish. “My lady.”

“How could you even see to catch anything?” Eustace wanted to know. “It’s pitch dark.”

“A Mouse has far better night sight than a human.” Reep sat down to clean his sword. “I thought that the three of us might enjoy a bit of variety in our nourishment.” He was quiet for a moment. “There are a fair lot of Galmian sailors down by the water. One might wonder what they are doing. Some of them were even traversing the cliffs to the other bay.”

Lucy had cut some fat off the bits of pig provided for them before setting them aside to return to the others. Now, she was heating it up while gutting the fish and pulling out the innards. She really was frightfully good with a knife.

“Let them be,” she said in response to Reep.

Reep just nodded.

Eustace peered into the darkness, but was too blinded by the fire to see anything at all. The beach would be brighter, he knew, with the moon almost full. He still wouldn’t spend time wandering around down there - especially not during meal time. Whatever  _ would _ they be doing?

Soon, the smell of fried fish permeated the air and several people wandered over to see if they could barter for a piece or two. Lucy gracefully let them have two of the fish in exchange for some fresh berries and some mint-water someone had been enterprising enough to prepare earlier in the day so that it was now cold and refreshing. Eustace made sure to give Lucy profound thanks for making the food -- and the same to Reep for catching the fish. He didn’t think he’d had as good a meal since they had left the Lone Isles.

“Sometimes you need a good meal and the company of friends to make up for a long week,” Lucy said when he mentioned it. 

Eustace couldn’t do other than agree with her.

  
  
  


Eustace woke up in the middle of the night. And  _ this _ time, he knew exactly why. He could feel it, the previous days’ tension coming to a head. Something was happening. And he was meant to witness it.

Rolling out of his blankets, he pulled on his boots, then took one of the blankets for warmth. Lucy had already gone, he noticed, and her knives with her. He grabbed his sword, not wanting be unprepared, and followed his instincts to the beach, then along the water and up into the cliffs. Had he stopped to think about it, he would probably have realised how dangerous it was to climb rocks in the middle of the night, but he felt  _ safe _ .  _ Was _ safe, he knew (though how he knew it, he couldn’t say).

He found Lucy on a moon-lit slab of rock high onto the cliff side, her legs dangling off the edge as she leaned back on her hands. She didn’t acknowledge him as he sat down next to her, but shifted closer readily enough.

“I completed my duty as Valiant,” she said, still not looking at him. “I found Larch’s murderer.”

“I’m not sure I want to know who it is,” Eustace admitted.

“You don’t need to,” Lucy told him. “But if you’re here...either you or Aslan must’ve thought you needed to.”

Eustace chose not to respond, then forgot the whole discussion as he saw what Lucy had been watching.

Below them, on a small tidal island, was Aslan. He was enormous, even from where they were. His fur shone in the moonlight and his presence filled the air with energy that sparked against Eustace’s skin. Water almost - but only almost - lapped against his great paws and surrounding him were small herds of sea creatures. They seemed to be dancing, swirling in patterns, and dipping in and out of the small swells. Some sort of sea mammal had curled up between Aslan’s feet and in front of him...in front of him stood Rynelf, head hanging low and body slumped. 

“Oh.” Eustace didn’t realise he was the one making the small noise until Lucy drew in a deep breath. She didn’t say anything, but he could feel her tense up next to him. Was she afraid that he would say something? Not say something?

Below, Rynelf sat down at Aslan’s feet. He was gesticulating, wildly, as he spoke. Aslan was motionless. Eustace really didn’t want to know what they were saying - not only was this between Rynelf and Aslan, but also… He didn’t want to know what explanation one of the few sailors he knew, at least a little, might offer for causing the death of another.

Lucy slowly relaxed - Eustace had apparently done the right thing for once - and when whatever was happening below finished, she turned towards Eustace and hugged him. Eustace hugged her back, awkwardly - hugs were fairly new to him - and when they parted, Aslan and Rynelf were gone.

Something warm touched his neck.

Eustace yelped, almost falling over to the side, then found himself needing to shuffle sideways as Aslan appeared between him and Lucy, falling onto his stomach and stretching out like the big cat he was.

Lucy giggled.

Eustace stared - this was not something that was supposed to happen to  _ him _ ! To Edmund and Lucy, they were the Narnians. Not  _ him _ .

Aslan turned his head slowly and looked at him. “And why would that be, Eustace?”

Somehow, Eustace knew exactly what Aslan meant. “They lived here! For years and years!”

“You live here now.” 

Eustace wanted to protest, but somehow, it was hard to disbelieve something that Aslan said.

“Don’t try,” Lucy advised, curled up against Aslan now with her head half-buried in his mane. It looked very comfortable. 

Eustace still wanted to, but he seemed to lack the energy for it. He sighed, giving in to the urge and learning against Aslan as well. It  _ was _ very comfortable, he found, and warm as well. 

“What happens now?” he asked, suddenly very very sleepy.

Lucy didn’t sound much more awake as she replied. “I talk to Rynelf. And--” she yawned “then I tell Edmund and he decides what has to be done.”

“It’s that easy?”

Aslan rumbled beneath him. “It’s never easy to heal hearts, son of Adam.”

“But it’s always worth it.” Lucy sounded sure. Then she yawned again. “Will you stay, Aslan? I have missed you.”

Eustace knew the answer before Aslan even answered.

“For you, dear one, I stay. For now.”

After that, everything grew very fuzzy, and before Eustace knew it, he was asleep.

  
  
  


No one seemed to have noticed their absence when they wandered back into the camp, or, if they had, they didn’t feel the need to comment on it. Eustace was tempted to ask someone which iit was, but didn’t. Instead he wandered over to the main fire to grab tea and gruel as prepared by the cook, then walked down to the beach.

The boats were still pulled up onto the shore, even though the water now lapped at them as the tide came in. There was no sign of the small tidal island and Eustace hadn’t seen Rynelf anywhere in the camp either. He must still have been on the ship, on watch duty. More magic, he decided, unless someone had decided to do some extensive rowing in the middle of the night, working against the tides.

Breakfast done, Eustace grabbed his assigned cloth bundles and headed for the broad stream that was their source of water and set himself up downstream. It seemed like there must have been people on the island at some point previously as there was already a man-made basin for suitable for soaking nearby the spot that he had tied lines for drying up at. Squinting up at the sky, Eustace tied a bit of cloth around his head and got to work. He really wanted to be done by the time noon came around, or he would regret it come evening.

There were still people milling around on the shore, he noticed as he worked. Some of them were fishing, but most appeared to be simply walking around. Later in the evening, they would row out to relieve the people on the ship, taking the new supplies with them. Usually they would have been found in the camp playing games, resting, or doing one of the dozens of small chores that needed to be done. For so many of them to be at the beach, they had to actually be doing  _ something _ .

He decided to ask Lucy later. She usually knew what was what. 

By the time noon came around, the drying lines were full and Eustace was more than ready to partake in the midday meal and rest his numb limbs. Whatever source the stream had, it was  _ not _ a warm place, and not even the sun seemed to warm the water of the stream overly much. It hadn’t stopped him from having a dunk before returning to camp, but it certainly didn’t make his fingers very happy with him.

With the midday meal being the traditional time to get new instructions or share news, all of them had gathered in the shade of the trees. The people that weren’t eating enjoyed some of the rum brought ashore and those who weren’t drinking played dice or saw to whatever hobbies they had. At the end of the meal, Drinian stood and gestured for people to be silent.

“As of last evening, Larch’s killer has been found.” There was a murmur among the crowd. “They will not be named, matters having been taken in hand by Aslan.” More murmurs now, surprisingly upset. “And King Edmund,” Drinian added, probably reckoning the non-Narnians would need something more tangible to believe in.

“Why won’t you tell us who it is?” yelled Rendar, who had been put on logging duty once his lock-up had ended and was none too happy about it. “You certainly named me.”

“You threw Larch’s offshoot into the bloody sea in plain view, you idiot!” It was one of the Galmian sailors, named something beginning with a V. “He didn’t  _ need _ to name you.”

Drinian waved for them to be quiet again. “The matter has been seen too,” he repeated, “by their majesties.”

“Then let  _ them _ tell us about it!” This time it was Sorin. 

Eustace saw Caspian and Edmund share a look, then Caspian motioned for Edmund to go ahead. Edmund rolled his eyes and clambered to his feet.

“Our sister, Queen Lucy, came to Us last night with the name of the person that caused Larch’s demise.” Edmund strode towards the fire as he spoke, hand on the pommel of his sword. “We met with this person and asked them under oath for their reasons. They satisfied Us with their answers and agreed to meet the Judgement of Aslan. They did so this night and received their judgement.” Edmund slowly met the gaze of each and every one of them turning as he did. “With that, this matter is considered done.”

“Just like that?” V-something said.

“Under Narnian law,” Reep said, “that is all that is needed. The perpetrator’s judgement is now between him and Aslan.”

“And  _ by the law _ ,” Drinian added, “that you signed contracts to follow, the matter is now dropped. Any further complaints will be considered insubordination.”

That, Eustace thought, was possibly a bit much to demand from people that could most likely not understand the subtleties of it all.

“Questions, however,” Edmund picked up, “may be directed at Drinian, Caspian or me during the evening hours.”

That quieted most of the grumbles but Eustace still felt unsettled. He put down the small collection of pebbles he had gathered as he did the washing, intending to try to identify them, and went to find Lucy.

He hadn’t seen his cousin since that morning, as they left their fire for their separate chores. During the midday meal, he had seen her sit down with Edmund but now she appeared to have gone somewhere else again. After making two separate circuits around the camp, he was forced to realise that wherever Lucy was, he didn’t have the time to find her before he needed to go back to his own tasks.

In the end, Eustace ended up asking Reep, who had decided to join him for the afternoon.

“It isn’t about punishment,” Reep told Eustace, once he’d asked about the earlier announcement. “It’s about knowing what went wrong, how to correct it, make reparations to society, and then live with what has been done. The Valiant finds the truth, Aslan makes us face it, and the Just gives the sentence. Once this has passed, there’s nothing more to be said.”

Eustace tried to wrap his head around it, he did, but, “It’s not how it works at home.”

Reep gave him a fascinated look. “Ah, correct me if I’m wrong - since I have only had the opportunity to discuss this with Caspian - but am I wrong to assume that Aslan is not known to your world?”

Eustace tried to imagine people worshipping a big Lion and had to swallow a bout of laughter. “No,” he said. “We have, er, a god in my country, but it’s something you just believe in without ever seeing him. Them. I don’t know really - my parents don’t believe in religion.”

“Ah.” Reep looked as discomfited at the idea as Eustace did at the thought of Narnian justice. “Then, perhaps, you should consider that in Narnia, Aslan is always with us. He takes part in our everyday life and shows us what is Right and what is Wrong. If your god, if they exist, did that, perhaps your sense of justice would be the same.”

It was all just such a mess. “I have a hard time understanding,” he had to admit.

Reep thought for a moment. “You have met Aslan.” It wasn’t a question, so Eustace just listened. “When he helped you change into who you are today, did you doubt him or question him?”

“A little.” But not a lot, Eustace had to admit.

“Did we ask you tell us exactly what happened, how you felt and demand that you, now that you were a better person, should apologise for everything you had done and even pay fines for those things you might have done wrong?”

“No--but I apologised anyway. And told you.”

“But that was your choice. We didn’t demand it, nor did Aslan demand it. You faced Him and you changed, that was enough. We had faith in Aslan and we had faith in you. It’s the same with this perpetrator: they faced Him, answered for what they had done and accepted whatever reparation the Just deemed fair. Whatever happens now, is up to them and Aslan.”

It made sense, sort of, Eustace guessed. It still was mostly beyond him, but…

“I think Narnia might both be better and worse than England sometimes,” he confessed to Reep.

“Everything is better and worse at various points. All that matters is what we do with it.”

And that, Eustace thought, might actually make more sense than their entire conversation.

  
  
  


**Eustace’s Diary**

_ I don’t know why I didn’t share Rynelf’s name with anyone else. I know I can honestly say that I never considered it. Maybe it’s part of the magic - if it was magic that made me come to Lucy on that ledge. It certainly felt like it. Some days, I feel like coming to Narnia is one single long lesson to be learned at a school with no clear subject. Then I forget about it until something jars me again. _

_ I still haven’t seen Lucy. If Caspian had been gone as well, I would’ve thought that perhaps they went walking, but he’s been around as usual. I can’t help but feel that it has something to do with being the Valiant. And  _ something _ to do with the fact that the Galmians and, now, the Telmarines keep walking around by the water.  _

_ Maybe tomorrow everything will start making sense again. _

  
  


Eustace nearly got up and walked the other way when he realised Rynelf was coming his way. He’d been quite happily resting by the stream, his feet being nibbled on my fish, when he’d heard someone come through the bushes to his secluded spot. Reep must’ve told Rynelf where to find him.

“Eustace.” Rynelf hesitated some yards away. “Mind if I sit?”

Eustace had to swallow the instinctive  _ yes _ and managed to nod.

“Her Majesty said that you’re aware of...what I did.” Rynelf sat himself down on a rock, staring out over the water and the bushy shore beyond. “I thought you would tell people.”

“I wouldn’t.” It was the truth, too, Eustace realised a little to his own surprise. “It’s not my place. Reep told me how it works. It’s supposed to be all over.”

“I don’t think it will ever be over.” Rynelf’s voice was flat. For a moment, Eustace thought that he was angry, then, as he looked over, it was something he couldn’t name that had taken over Rynelf’s face. “I murdered someone. Circumstances or not, Larch is dead.”

Eustace swallowed hard. “If...if you don’t mind, I don’t want to know.”

There was a sharp inhalation. “I shouldn’t have come.”

“Why did you?” Eustace wanted to know. “We don’t know each other.”

“I don’t know.” Rynelf shook his head. “I’m sorry. This is probably something I will have to deal with on my own.”

There was really nothing Eustace could say to that. Or wanted to say to that. 

He stood and waded out into the water, closing his eyes and clenching his hands and just  _ stood _ there until his feet were numb and he nearly fell onto his behind as he lost his balance. 

It was all so  _ stupid _ .

  
  
  


Edmund was the one to come get him, handing him a blanket and a flagon of minty water as he came out of the water.

“Drink,” Edmund said. “Then sit.” After a moment, while Eustace did as he was told, he added, “Rynelf is sorry for coming to you. He forgot that while Lucy and I have been here before and are...not quite what we look like, you  _ are  _ exactly what you look like.”

“A child,” Eustace said, without thinking, then, realised that that was exactly what he had been feeling like that entire conversation. “He just came here… He... “ Then, to his great embarrassment, he burst into tears.

Edmund exhaled and pulled him into an embrace, holding him tight as he shook. It felt like Edmund understood.

“Narnia is so very different than home,” Edmund said thoughtfully, once Eustace stopped shaking. “Different expectations, different ways of thinking of things. What seems like natural choices and common sense is the opposite here. I can’t say we’re asking too much of you - there’s no space for coddling on a small ship - but maybe we should stop and think from time to time.”

Eustace didn’t want to reply, so he didn’t. For once, he just didn’t want to try, or think. He was  _ tired _ .

“Come on,” Edmund said after a while. “I promised you sword lessons - and I know for sure that exercise will knock everything else out of your head for a while. If for no other reason than that you have to keep your mind on where the sharp edges go.”

Eustace nodded and went to gather his belongings. He could do with some time without thinking. It would be absolutely great, in fact.

  
  
  


**Eustace’s Diary**

_ Yesterday was...hard. _

_ I don’t think I want to write about it. _

_ Lucy apologised. _

_ I hope today is better. _

  
  


“Wake up!”

Eustace blinked his eyes open. It was...not very light yet. “Bwargh?”

“We’re having visitors.” Lucy sounded...apprehensive. 

Though-- “Visitors?” To what? Their fire? He pulled his blanket up and blinked some more until the tree branches above him started to actually have separate shapes.

“I think they’re bringing us something.” Yes, Lucy was definitely rattled. 

Eustace made an effort to sit up, finding Reep poking at the banked fire and coaxing it back into life. Beyond their sleeping spot, there were, indeed, people milling around with multiple gazes on them. It...really wasn’t a very nice feeling.

“What are they doing?” Eustace hissed, suddenly wide awake.

“I don’t know!” Lucy hissed back. “Everything was just fine when I went to bed.”

“Maybe--” He didn’t get to finish the sentence, as it appeared that him being awake was the signal for one of the people to head for them. Sorin, Eustace was fairly sure. He was carrying something.

Lucy sat up straight, putting on her Queen Lucy mask as easily as Eustace put on trousers - which, when he thought about it, might not actually be an accurate metaphor while in Narnia. Reep shifted position by the fire, discreetly putting himself where he might be of aid should something happen, but not making himself a threat. Eustace kicked his legs free of his blankets, wanting at the very least be free to move.

Sorin came closer and whatever it was that he was carrying appeared to be small, enough so that he held it cupped in his hands. There was an...oddly intense look on his face of… elation? 

Well, at least that suggested there was nothing nefarious going on. Eustace relaxed and Reep began to put on a kettle of tea. Lucy lost some of the stiffness in her back, and, when Sorin reached them, she greeted him with a smile.

“Your majesty.” Sorin bobbed into an off-center bow. “Eustace, Reepicheep. I...we…” He cleared his throat. “We looked, your majesty, and we think we found him.” He held out whatever he was holding towards Lucy.

“Found who…?” Lucy looked confused, but nevertheless reached out for whatever Sorin held out. Then, she saw what it was. “Oh.  _ Oh. _ ”

Eustace realised it a moment later. “Is that…?” He lost his words as tears suddenly surged.

“It’s Larch’s offshoot,” Lucy confirmed, voice choked as she gently, so, so gently, propped up the small shoot in her hands. “It’s really them.” Tears were running down her cheeks now. “We need a pot. And good soil.”

Sorin cleared his throat and held out something he’d taken from his belt. When Eustace looked closer, he saw it was an uneven but deep clay cup and a pouchful of what he assumed to be dirt. “We tried our best - Venner knows how to bake clay, so he was in charge of baking something, and the logging team picked up dirt from up the forest where there are other needle trees.” He looked a bit sheepish. “None of us know much about planting - we didn’t mean to scare you, but we weren’t sure how long it would make it without a pot.”

“You did the right thing.” Lucy was already packing the little sapling into the dirt. Eustace didn’t think he imagined that it twitched, just a little, as if happy to bury its roots again. “Oh, I can’t believe anything survived, that…” She choked up.

“I’ve seen a lot of things that shouldn’t have made it make it to shore,” Sorin said. “So have the others. Once you spoke to us, your majesty, we wanted to at least make sure.”

“You searched for a long time,” Reep agreed. “It was a great work, what you did.” His voice was warmer than Eustace thought he’d ever heard it be when communicating with the non-Narnians. 

“We are a proud people.” Sorin squared his shoulders. “Proud both of our history and our conduct. If someone points out we’ve believed something in error and shows us otherwise, let it not be said we don’t change our behaviour.” He hesitated with an odd look at Lucy, then continued, “We had forgotten Narnia’s magic - we never realised that Linden’s Lucy was the Lucy that traveled with us.”

Lucy stiffened momentarily, then relaxed. “Linden was a wonderful man. He would’ve been proud of you.”

For some reason, Sorin lit up from that, and when he left a moment later to share the events with his fellow sailors, he left them feeling uplifted.

Eustace reached out with a finger to touch a little branch with a tiny little wrinkly leaf. It shivered against his skin. “How...how much of Larch is in there?” he asked, still not quite sure how it all worked.

“Time will tell.” Lucy was smiling - a genuine smile that Eustace realised he hadn’t seen since she became the Valiant. “Dryad magic - it’s not a science. It’s not Larch. You can’t move a Dryad from one tree to another - that’s impossible. It.. It’s more alive than a regular tree, but it’s not a fully sentient being.”

“So we take care of them,” Eustace summarised.

“We do.” Lucy straightened. “And we take care of us. By Aslan’s Fluffy Paw--” Eustace choked, just a little. “--I’ve been looking forward to not being Valiant.”

Eustace blinked, then understood. “It’s all over, then.”

Lucy nodded, more gravely this time. “It’s all over. We know what happened, the perpetrator has met Aslan’s Justice and we have Larch’s offshoot.” She took a deep breath. “It’s the best we could hope for, in all honesty.”

Eustace nodded, then yawned. “I want more sleep,” he confessed.

Lucy laughed. “You curl up and I’ll wake you up once breakfast is done,” she suggested.

Grateful, Eustace took her up on her suggestion.

He slept better than he had in days.

  
  


**Eustace’s Diary**

_ It’s over. It’s finally over. _

_ Narnia is a strange place. _

_ The concept of Aslan...of a present god - God? - is really strange. _

_ I might get used to it. _


	2. The Valiant and Caspian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some scenes between Caspian and Lucy.

Caspian’s memory of Lucy - the younger Lucy he had met several years previously - was of a girl with a particular connection to Aslan. At the time, he had been more interested in her older siblings, closer to him in age. He still remembered her - because who could forget someone like Lucy that never left the light of Aslan even when she walked into shadow?

That memory had been all but forgotten once she’d come onto the deck of the  _ Dawn Treader _ , sopping wet, and  _ older _ . There was something about her - some magic - that twisted reality around her (and her brother) until they no longer seemed anything like the people who had arrived only moments ago, but more like the Queen and King they must have been hundreds of years ago. Or perhaps it was only reality giving in to what they truly were - magic was still new to him.

All he knew was that the more grown Lucy that had come to join him on this journey was a person that he very much wanted to know better.

Then came the Valiant.

  
  
  
  


They were stuck. Someone had murdered their Dryad and they were stuck on ship until something had been done. 

Caspian was fond of clear facts. That they couldn’t leave the ship until there was reason enough to suppose that it wouldn’t pervert the course of justice, was, to him, a clear fact.

When he told Lucy as much, she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter where we are. I can find out the truth whether we’re at sea or on the island - and I don’t doubt that  _ everyone _ will feel better if we’re not cooped up on the ship.”

That did not make sense. “If I was the perpetrator, I would take the opportunity to flee.” He certainly had, when he had been the one accused of a crime - one that he didn’t commit, granted, but it was surely much the same.

“Only if they want to live on this admittedly very nice-looking island for the rest of their life,” Lucy pointed out, her tone told him loud and clear that she thought that he should’ve thought of that already. 

He  _ had _ thought of that, he had. It was just--

Caspian nearly jumped out of his skin as Lucy took his hand (it was a very  _ small _ hand with a lot of calluses and really, he wouldn’t mind holding it forever) and squeezed it gently. “Want to tell me what is really going on?” she asked. “You’ve been behaving...not like the Caspian I know since Edmund and I told you about Valiant and Just.”

It was just like her, he reflected. She took one look at someone and saw the heart of what they were thinking. Even when they didn’t want to see it themselves (he had been avoiding thinking about it for  _ quite _ some time now).

“I don’t like it.” He forced himself to say it. “Someone killed Larch. It has to be someone on the ship  _ and I don’t like it _ . Drinian and I...we picked every single person on this ship.”

Lucy took a deep breath. Caspian found himself echoing it, his shoulders slumping. When did he become that tense?

“You’re wondering what you missed.” She pulled him over to one of the benches in the state room and sat him down. “Caspian, there’s no way of knowing what will happen during a long journey like this. People will change and their motivations with them.” She hesitated. “You know this, Caspian. We both know that.”  _ So what is it that’s bothering you, because it’s not that. _

And...that, Caspian didn’t actually know. It was just...something. Something that kept him awake in his hammock and had him spending far too much time here in the state room, glaring at sea charts and consulting books that he already knew had nothing new to tell them.

“I don’t know.” He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “ _ I don’t know _ .”

Lucy was silent for a moment. Her hand was still in his and, Caspian had to admit, it was ridiculous amounts of soothing. There wasn’t anyone to touch him out here, to share an embrace or even a pat on the shoulder. Drinian, sometimes, but the man was more reserved than anyone else that Caspian knew. Expressions of pride or affection were few and far between.

“It took years for us to be fully at peace after ascending our thrones.”

Caspian almost forgot to breathe. Edmund and Lucy seldom spoke of their time as King and Queen. He’d always wanted to hear about it - to ask them questions, to learn if it had been as hard for them as it was for him. Cornelius, in the beginning, had told him that if he only took a moment to think, he would  _ know _ what to do. Caspian thought, then and now, that Cornelius had been overly optimistic. Caspian had been raised to rule the Telmarines, not...Narnia.

“I know that you’ve been taught about Narnia’s history,” Lucy continued, “but I don’t know how much is still remembered. After Jadis’s death - the White Witch - there wasn’t peace for years and years. Peace doesn’t happen just because major battles are won - it’s a long process. People won’t like you simply because you’re their ruler and you won’t understand  _ them _ just because you hold their throne.”

She took a deep breath. “Do you know anything about our world?”

Caspian blinked. “Our--? You mean, from beyond the--” He blinked again as he remembered that they’d said they fell out of a  _ painting _ . How had he forgotten that?

“Yes.” Lucy squeezed his hand again, and Caspian forgot everything about paintings. “In our world, there is no magic.” She laughed. “Our world is  _ round _ in fact - you would circle the world instead of reaching an edge.”

A  _ round _ world? How did  _ that _ make sense?

“What I’m getting at is: we were as unprepared to rule a land of magic and Beings as you were - even less, since we were never taught how to rule at all. There was plenty of confusion - and a lot of tension - in the beginning. And--Caspian, we did things wrong. Nothing was perfect. You can’t  _ get  _ perfect with people. You can only  _ try _ .”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you were Queen.” Caspian found himself speaking, even as, inside, his head was tangling itself into knots. “You wouldn’t have missed that it could be dangerous to have both Beings and Humans on the ship.”

“Caspian.” Lucy’s voice was sharp. He flinched, but opened his eyes and looked at her. “If you’re trying to make peace in Narnia, separating Beings and Humans, no matter if including them both might be contentious, is not the right way of doing it. You did  _ right _ . Whether they - whoever  _ they  _ end up being - do right by  _ you _ is a completely different subject.”

And… Well. “I had never looked at it like that,” Caspian admitted.

“It took some time to understand that for us too,” Lucy told him. “It’s part of being King. Or Queen.”

Caspian steeled himself and squeezed Lucy’s hand. “I’m glad that you’re here.”

Lucy smiled. “I’m glad to be here as well.”

  
  
  


Caspian learned about Lucy’s absence via Eustace, who had apparently been looking for her ever since the announcement about Larch’s murderer had been made. He had been too busy himself to notice much of anything, answering questions about Narnian law and what would happen now. It had all been very strange - normally, few of the crew would even approach him. He supposed that Larch’s fate had had an impact on all of them, even if for some, it had taken some time to happen.

“Has this something to do with her role as Valiant?” Caspian asked Edmund, once he had found  _ him _ . “I’m not all that clear about how that role works - it was considered archaic even by Cornelius.”

“You might want to look into setting the custom up again once we’re gone,” Edmund advised him. “Narnia has a living religion; Valiant and Just serves well as links between state and religion when you don’t necessarily want the two entwined.  _ But _ to answer your question, no, her absence is not part of being the Valiant, and no, I don’t know where she is.” He hesitated. “I imagine she might’ve needed some time on her own.”

“She’s worked hard.” He might not understand exactly how a Valiant worked, but anyone could’ve seen she’d been working hard at it. There wasn’t a single person on the ship that she hadn’t had multiple conversations with, from Drinian to the lowest-ranked sailor.

Edmund gave him a thoughtful look. “Go find her. I don’t think she’d mind your company.”

Caspian tried to ignore the way his blood rushed straight to his face. “You don’t?”

Edmund just shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder, heading off somewhere on his own business.

It took some time to reason out where Lucy might have gone. He knew where she  _ wouldn’t _ have gone, wanting solitude, but there were plenty of spots that might give you some privacy. Most of the island would, in fact, fit under the description. He did, however, remember how much Lucy liked the sea, and knew that two bays over was a small cove that was too far out of the way for random walking. If you didn’t mind an hour of walking, though, it would likely appeal to someone wanting a bit of space.

Letting Drinian know where he was going, Caspian headed off along the beach, nodding at people as he passed them. The outer perimeter guard confirmed that Lucy had been past him and that she had let him know when to expect her back. Caspian thanked him and refilled his flagon in the nearby stream before continuing on.

He found Lucy much as he expected to find her: seated by a small tidal pool and watching tiny crabs and fish navigate the space. She had dug a small channel down to the sea and now watched the water ebb and flow with the waves.

Not knowing how to get her attention, Caspian stood awkwardly behind her for a time before Lucy looked over her shoulder at him. “Are you going to stand there just looking at me?”

Caspian flushed but went over, sitting down next to her. “I didn’t know how to get your attention.”

“I heard you coming from quite some way away,” she said dryly. “You haven’t come very far when it comes to forest navigation.”

“There was a lot of brambles!”

“Don’t walk so close to the beach next time,” she advised, “Less brambles.”

Caspian made a mental note of it, then took a closer look at Lucy. She looked tired, but not desperately so. More as if she’d had a lot to do - which, of course, she had. “How are you?”

Lucy sighed, leaning forwards to cool her hands in the water. “Fine enough. You don’t get to choose what truths you find as Valiant - it will take some time to sort it all through in my mind.”

“Anything I can do?”

Lucy laughed. Caspian fidgeted, awkwardly, wondering what was so funny about  _ that _ . 

“Oh, no, it’s not you,” Lucy finally managed in between giggles, “it’s just - you’re not the first to ask that. By far.”

“Oh.”

She waved her hand. “Don’t mind me - the tiredness has me a bit silly I think.”

“I can go if you want?” Maybe he’d made a mistake in coming.

“No, no, stay.” She smiled up at him and grabbed his hand in her wet, cold one. It was still as wonderful as it had been the first time. “I like your company.”

Caspian wanted to ask something silly like  _ you do? _ but managed to stop it before it escaped. Instead he just smiled and looked into the pool.

“You have quite the collection in there,” he noted.

“It was drying out too quickly, so I made a path down to the water.” Lucy pointed. “That one - little red one - came up from the sea.”

They spent the afternoon like that, talking and enjoying the sea. When they wandered back to the camp, they did so holding hands until they reached the perimeter, where Lucy let go. 

“Some things,” she explained when he asked, “I prefer to keep private. For now, at least.” 

It was hard to protest when she beamed at him.

Caspian hadn’t felt like a person in a long time. He’d been a prince and then a king. Caspian had sort of fallen to the side. With Lucy, however, he could  _ be  _ just Caspian. And, he hoped, she could be just Lucy.

  
  
  
  



End file.
